Page 11 of Chasing Wild Heart

“Hey, you’re never supposed to ask a lady her age.”

“Good thing you’re not a lady,” he easily tosses back.

“Twenty-one,” I answer, smiling at the recent memory oftaking too many shots only to hurl everything back up at the end of the night. “I was twelve – a seventh grader – when I watched you win your third straight state title.”

“So, wait,” Dash ponders, squinting an eye thoughtfully. “If you were there, that means you ran your first state meet earlier in the day, right? Because I know you went to state six times.”

“Yeah, that was my first state meet.”

“Wait, a second.” His ocean blue eyes grow wide with surprise and excitement. “You were the seventh grader who finished fourteenth!”

I nod, sliding my fork around the near empty skillet to scoop up the last bits of hashbrowns hidden under the biscuits and gravy.

A few lines wrinkle his forehead as his mind searches for a familiar face to connect the informational tidbit.

“Come on,” I tease with a snicker. “You got this, old man. It’s been what? A couple of decades?”

“No.” Dash scowls before suddenly lighting up, snapping his fingers, and pointing at me. “I remember you!”

His enthusiasm for remembering minor specifics on a chaotic and significant day for him amuses me too much that I don’t care that he’ll remember a skinny 12-year-old geek with glasses and braces.

“You were the ner… nervous. You looked nervous,” he stammers suddenly, slumping a bit with a sheepish smile.

I wonder if he remembered he has three sisters who probably wouldn't be thrilled to be teased about their looks. Especially during the awkward periods. Because I highly doubt Dash went through one when he was younger.

“I was a nerd, Dash,” I admit, setting the utensils inside the empty dish. “I had braces and glasses and skinny legs.”

“Yeah, but now look at you, you’re all se...secretary-ish,” he stumbles awkwardly.

Secretary-ish? What the hell does that mean?

With brows knitted together, I shoot him a quizzical look for an explanation. But then I notice a pink tinge slowly warming his tanned cheeks. His gaze falling anywhere but me. His hands shoving the last big bite of his burger in his mouth.

You’re all se…

“Dashwood Black,” I exclaim with faux surprise and copy the way he leaned forward a few moments ago. “Do you think I’m sexy?”

He swallows visibly before rolling his eyes and sitting straighter. “Oh, come on, you know you’re sexy. Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying anything.” I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “So, you remember me at state, then?”

He nods silently, pushing his empty plate aside. “I didn’t watch you run, but everyone was talking about how this seventh grader would be the next big thing. I saw you and your coach talk to some other coaches before my race.”

I vaguely remember being nervous before the race, but everything after it had been a big blur. Tired smiles. Soft “thank you” whenever someone complimented me. Unfamiliar faces after another.

“Did you save room for dessert?” Mindy pops by the table with a big smile, quickly grabbing the two empty plates.

Dash and I both shake our heads.

“Separate checks?” she asks slyly, shooting me a sassy wink that says,“You’re gonna hit that if he picks up your check, right?”

The small smile I give her conveys,“You and your sister suck at matchmaking so give it up. I’ll give you details about this turd later.”

“Yes,” I confirm quickly, just as Dash says, “One check please.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he pulls a credit card from his wallet and hands it to Mindy.

“I’ll be right back with your receipt,” she chirps, bouncing away before I can stop her.

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